"Alright you maggots! Fall in. Feet behind the yellow line and duffle bags behind you! My name is Chief Warrant Officer James Screaming Eagle but, you can call me Chief! I need your name rank and Specialty!"

Ooc: Feel free to write down what you would like. I will have your character for you based on your intro.

Giving 'Chief' a once-over, Samantha fell in next to the others and replied; "Corporal Samantha Hall...call me Sam...Rifleman"; then couldn't help but give an impish smirk and added; "...and of course we all be Life-takers and Heart-breakers mon"; with her New Kingston Colony Carribbean accent coming thru.

OOC: In the USMC of today; Warrant Officers in the Corps are unofficially known as 'Gunners'....So Chief would be 'Gunner' Screaming Eagle; but whether this is so in an Interstellar USCM force is of course up to you amigo!

Sergeant Danny Sykes stood behind Screaming Eagle, looking eagerly around at his new commander. Of course he was primarily skilled in leadership and tactics, and he exuded charisma without seeming to think himself superior to his marines.

Within every military force there are the typical foot soldiers, then there is the elite troops. The Colonial Marines are no exception. Following the traditions of the United States Marine Corps, the Colonial Marines included the Marine Special Forces: Marine Force Recon, and the sapper, Marine Combat Engineers. The term 'Marine Recon' conjures images of daring raids and desperate rescue missions in enemy territory. The reality, though less glamorous, still encourages the Colonial Marines' finest to sign up for recon, the most demanding and challenging mission within the Corps. Reconnaissance Marines train for “special operations”, a term covering missions including deep penetration reconnaissance, raids and demolitions, assassinations, the training of partisans and guerrillas and rescue operations. Recon Marines have to operate in all environments and receive extensive training in underwater, deep space, and hostile planetary environments. Usually operating in autonomous four-man teams, the Recon Marine's job is to stay hidden in the heart of the enemy's territory, supplying the kind of vital intelligence that satellites or aerospace craft cannot - information that can only be uncovered by an expert man or woman on the ground. Because of the recon mission flexibility, Recon Marines in the field frequently have to perform special tasks - such as demolitions or raids - at short notice, often with no more equipment than they already carry. There are many techniques for covertly inserting Recon Marines into an operating zone. Because there are a few places inaccessible from space, the most popular method is an orbital drop from. The dead-drop method is the stealthiest approach, but also the most risky; it involves a dropship breaking just the upper atmosphere and the Marine performing a HALO jump. Where the Colonial Marines already own landing zones on a planet, more conventional methods of insertion are used - by aerospace craft, boat, or submarine.TEAM SIZE: 2 Infantry, 1 Heavy Weapon, 1 Sniper, 1 NCO/OCC.SHIP TYPE: SnakefighterCONSPIRACY LEVEL: CL1ADVENUTRE TYPES: As stated above, deep penetration reconnaissance, raids and demolitions, assassinations, the training of partisans and guerrillas and rescue operations.

Morse was not sober stepping up. It was not that he had been drinking that morning, it was that he still felt the effects of the night before. The medication he took kept his mind clear, but he had felt his weight shift unexpectedly when he had first risen. Fortunately, he could smoothly stabilize himself with the metal clunk of the robotic leg that sat in place of his left knee all the way down to his foot. Though hidden by his pants, everyone there knew he had it and why. There was an argument to be made that it was his own fault, there was another thought that you could blame the enemy for setting the land mine. The only person that truly knew the truth was Morse, and he was not exactly the type to blame himself for anything.

Grizzled and miserable, the short blonde hair Marine cocked an eyebrow at the request, and cleared his throat.

"Corporal Morse... I'm uhh...." Morse thought about his answer a moment not sure what his specialty in that regard would be. "Whatever you want me to be. 'Long's it involves things not bein' living."

Morse had combat medic training and experienced, he was one of the best M56 Smartgunners in the galaxy, he'd taught training courses on the M41A-E2, on top of high marks as a riflemen and even had time as a rocket soldier, which he'd like to keep.

Morse was all in all a deadly killer with a lot of tools, and he'd take as many as he could carry so long as a mission allowed for it.

"Private John Perez, Heavy Gunner... " The young enginerr stepped to the line as if stepping into a winner's circle, "... No relation... " He quickly stated looking at Juan as he spoke as if the issue needed explanation. John was very pale for a half mexican male from South Georgia. His Dark hair and dark eyes are in contrast to his pale but not albino skin tones. He was also small by any human standard standing at only 5 foot 8 inches tall, with the girth of a small squurrel at 195 lbs. It looked as if a strong wind would carry him away. Though John was fresh out of boot, he walked as if he knew he could win any conflict. The size of his puffed chest was only matched by the chip he carried invisibly on each shoulder.

((OOC: I am not experienced in marine life or practice so please help me with any corrections.))

That is supposed to be Lopez not Perez, sorry and I have a few typos there I have not been able to login incorrect. As soon as I am able I will take care of it please excuse my aunt experience with this system.

He stood there, facing "Chief", his features as impassive as ever and listened to the other guys ....

"Giosso ... Hall ... Morse ...Perez"

... all of a sudden, he glanced to his right ...

did he said Perez? Hmm, yes, he did

Juan went through his family tree quickly but could not find any relations to this guy. Nevertheless, nomen est omen, as the romans would say. He glanced over and gave him a short-lived smile. Then, he faced Chief again.

"My apologies, con permiso jeffe, " Lopez looked embarrassed at his error. Have spanic names and faces are rare in higher ranked officers and for that one moment Lopez had imagined Himself as a Sargeant or dare he to dream higher? He did indeed dare, but first he must survive... Surviving is always job one. " Private John Lopez, Sir. "<Tag all>

Picking at a piece of offending lint on her uniform sleeve before coming to attention in front of "Chief" was a petite Philipino woman with dark brown eyes behind Marine issued specs that she habitually pushes up on the bridge of her squat nose. Laola Sutherland wasnt "beautiful" but her 5'8" frame had its charms with strong hips and a lean muscled athletic build. Her file showed high marks for tracking, stealth and wilderness survival that impressed her trainers at Boot Camp. She was hoping for an assignment as a Scout but her fate was in the hands of her CO and the powers that be. But it sure beat being a poor fisherman's daughter in a backwater coastal town back on Earth.

Laola snapped her stare to the other Marines gathered and gave a crisp a salute to Chief Screaming Eagle, "Pvt. Laola Sutherland reporting Chief! Another great day in the Corps.!"